FEAR Awakened
by Illitor
Summary: This is an attempt to reconcile the events of F.E.A.R., Extraction Point, Perseus Mandate, and Project Origin by bringing the characters of Dark Signal and F.E.A.R. together in one, multi-faced narrative. The goal is to remain as true to the games as possible, up until Project Origin, while adding in-depth character development and new story elements that expand upon Alma's legacy.


**F.E.A.R.**

 **Awakened**

 **Interval 01 - Premonition**

 _It was a mistake._

That was the sort of thing people told themselves to rationalize their screw ups. After all, even the biggest mistakes could be forgiven, if not forgotten. To err is human.

But this was not human.

To inflict a wound was to invite retribution. Even once it healed, the memory of it still lingered. But ambition makes one forget these things, and Genevieve Aristide was a woman who wanted many things. Most dangerous of all, she wanted power.

For that, she had ripped open a deep scar—one that should have been kept sealed forever. Now, the blood was spilling onto her fingers.

Inside Armacham headquarters, infrared imagery glowed from the display wall of the operations room. The tight rows of monitors broadcasted six live feeds, recorded by helmet mounted cameras somewhere dark and far away. On the peripheral screens, six vital signs were displayed beneath the callsign _Bravo Team_ , all reading steady. Genevieve clutched the observation railing with bony fingers, watching in strained silence. She looked rather typical for a corporate woman—older, but still attractive enough to hold someone's attention.

At that moment, she wished she was alone, and far away.

"ATC Bravo, this is Ops, check in, over."

Three rows of wide, curved workstations filled the room in front of her. Twenty or so personnel sat at their computers, only speaking when necessary. The rest of the room was dark, with no windows, save for the executive booth behind her. She didn't want to be in there though, insulated from everything. This was her nightmare, and if she was going to take the blame for it, she would sure as shit take credit for fixing it.

Besides, people tended to work a little quicker whenever she loomed over them. It wouldn't matter this time, though. They were just as tense as she was. Everyone was thinking the same thing. Alpha team hadn't come back because they were dead. Bravo team would find their bodies any second now. Everyone knew this, but no one said a thing.

" _No signs of Alpha."_ A voice answered through the overhead speakers. " _Continuing into sector two."_

Genevieve pressed the intercom button.

"Are you checking everywhere? They might have gotten lost in one of the maintenance tunnels."

" _Most of these doors are still locked tight ma'am."_

She inhaled deeply and let it out slow and quiet, so no one could hear. Norton Mapes, a fat plum of a man, was seated at the workstation to the right of her. As usual, he was dumping a bag of cheetos down his gullet. Genevieve couldn't help noticing that they were the exact same color as his hair.

Norton was mostly competent, though. He had managed to obtain the Origin facility schematics discreetly after she encountered resistance from certain individuals. Alpha team moved rather quickly with the help of those blueprints, until they lost contact. Norton was the first to suggest that it was simply a comms failure. But, as others were quick to point out, the protocol for that was to circle back and re-establish communication. Too much time had passed since then, and Alpha team was still dark. So, Genevieve opted to send in Bravo team for recovery, fearing the worst.

"Terry, what do your readings look like?" She asked another, slightly less rounded man.

"I've got nothing like before." He said, his eyes darting over his monitor nervously. "Ever since we lost contact with Alpha, I'm not reading any signatures."

Terry was a nervous man by nature, and his appearance did him little favors. Dark circles hung under his eyes like teabags, and the rest of him was pale and flabby. Bloodshot eyes stared out from behind black rimmed glasses, fueled by caffeine and sugar.

"Say something as soon as you see something—anything." She told him. "Do you understand me?"

"And try to speak up, Terry." Norton smirked.

"I'll do you one better."

One of the monitors at the far end of the wall switched from Alpha's vital signs to a waveform readout. Norton grunted in frustration and threw his arms up in the air.

"Don't fuck with my display!" He complained. "Who's going to monitor Alpha's vitals?"

"As soon as you see something, say something." Terry told him.

"Quiet, both of you." Genevieve ordered. "They're in sector two now."

The winding corridors looked no less terrifying from the safety of where she stood. It was strange to see something so old and abandoned, yet so clean. Armacham had vacuum sealed the Origin facility when they left it behind, and not a speck of dust had touched it since.

"Negative read in sector two." Bravo team leader said. "Continuing on to sector three."

"Okay, you're about to see a lift." Norton said, clearing his throat. "That'll take you down to the vault. You'll have to leave one man up in sector two so he can relay your signal. Can't make the same mistake twice."

" _Copy that. Bravo three will standby."_

The team had arrived at the last point Alpha had checked in at before descending into the vault. Five men from Bravo climbed the metal stairway to the diagonal lift, while one other stayed behind. The magnetic lift would take them down to the heart of the facility, where Genevieve hoped to clean out some of Armacham's oldest skeletons. She pursed her lips and stared intently at the monitors. The shaft seemed endless, despite Bravo team's long range infrared. There was nothing at the end but darkness.

"Two hundred meters." Norton read out.

"Where did we lose Alpha?"

"At about fifty meters."

She took another deep breath and nodded. Her eyes bounced between the five feeds.

"One-hundred fifty meters."

"Bravo leader, check in." Genevieve pressed on the intercom.

" _All clear, ma'am."_ Bravo leader answered.

"Bravo three, what about you?"

The man who had been left behind appeared to be pondering over some of the equipment.

" _The mag lift must be on some other power supply. Unless the facility's been powered this whole time."_

"It's a nuclear facility, one of Armacham's first." She told him. "Everything should run on the same network."

" _I'm gonna see if I can't find a relay, get some of these lights working."_

" _Copy that, Bravo Three."_ Bravo Leader said. " _Circle back if we lose signal."_

" _Copy that, Bravo Leader."_

"One hundred meters!"

Genevieve gripped the railing tighter and stared intently at the waveform monitor. So far, it held steady, but she could feel the tension rising along her back. This was supposed to have been a simple clean up job, something that would have saved the North American branch from liquidation. Now, she would be lucky if she kept any position at all within the company. Perhaps Harlan had been right-

BAM.

The doors to the operations room swung open, making her jump. Walking through them, flanked by two ATC security officers, was the devil himself. He was old, in his late sixties, but still stood tall and fierce. Hard, flat lips tightened beneath a thick, white mustache. His serious eyes glowered behind thick-rimmed glasses, staring holes into her. Another shorter man of similar age walked beside him, dressed in a much nicer suit.

"Harlan, what are you-?" She began, but he moved her aside and spoke into the intercom.

"This is Harlan Wade." He said, his voice low and gravely. "I want you to pull your men out of that facility. Now."

"Harlan, this is out of line!" Genevieve rounded on him. Though, in truth she had been anticipating his little interruption for some time now. Still, she hadn't been expecting a visit from Armachan's chairman. Carson Slayers was a cold looking man, only somewhat less intimidating than Harlan. The two of them in a room together was enough to make her anxiety spike, but she kept a cool demeanor.

"You crossed that line when you sent those men into that hell hole." Harlan told her. "I warned you, Genevieve."

"Oh, Carson, don't tell me he's gotten you wrapped up in all of this?" She asked the chairman, realizing there was no reasoning with her other colleague.

"I'm afraid Harlan's made a solid case. The Origin facility should have never been reopened."

"Fifty meters!" Norton called.

"Can we please focus on the present? This is where we lost the first team." She told them, and they were quiet. "We need to at least try and locate them."

Now, she didn't care what anyone had to say. All of her focus was fixed on the monitors, where the long tunnel continued to swallow Bravo team.

"Hey-hey, I've got something!" Terry shouted.

On the other monitor, Genevieve saw a slight disturbance in the waveform readout. It wasn't as intense as it had been before losing Alpha, but there was still something. Then, Bravo Three spoke through the intercom.

" _Heads up, Bravo Leader. Lights in three… two… one..."_

In all of her concern for the rest of the team, and her distraction with Harlan, she hadn't seen Bravo Three make his way to one of the power relays. As soon as he flipped the switch, a harsh light blared out the monitors.

"Sweet Christ!" Norton grunted. "Bravo team, switch off infrared!"

The monitors had already switched halfway through his bellyaching, but Norton sat there looking no less annoyed. Even so, the picture was coming in clearer now. Pale concrete lined the walls of the tunnel, and at the end of it, Genevieve could see a lift bay. There was no monster at the end, or a pile of bodies as she had feared.

"Ma'am, we're still getting a signature reading!" Terry reminded her.

Just as he said something, the video feed began to cloud and distort.

"Goddamnit, get out of there!" Harlan bellowed.

Amidst the static, Genevieve could hear something quieter. It sounded like a voice. Looking over at Harlan, she saw his face go white, and he stumbled back against the glass window. She didn't know what he heard, but it was the same noise that appeared when Alpha went missing.

"Can you pull them out?" Carson asked.

"They need to reach the bottom before they can cycle back up!" Norton told him. "Twenty meters!"

Soon, the lift bay came into view.

"Ops, do you read me?"

"Yes, we read you." Norton answered. "Your video feed is cutting out."

"Cycle back up as soon as you reach the bottom!" Harlan ordered. "Do not set one foot near the vault!"

" _Ops, do you read me, over?"_ Bravo leader repeated. " _I'm getting some sort of interference_ — _gonna circle back."_

" _...how I wonder…_ "

Genevieve frowned at the last part of that transmission. It didn't sound like anyone on Bravo team. The voice was too small, too soft, and yet it filled her ears louder than anything. Harlan leaned against the railing, steadying himself with one hand and clutching his head with the other.

"God forgive me…" He muttered.

" _...what you are…"_

"Pull them out, Genevieve." Carson told her.

"I've done all I can." She responded patiently. "They know to circle back if they lose contact."

Suddenly, every monitor in the room went blank and blue. The rest of the faculty murmured in confusion while Norton groaned loudly. The sound of desperate tapping on keys filled the room, but then something popped up on every screen. It was the Armacham logo.

" _...like a diamond…"_

"What the hell is that sound?" Carson growled. "Harlan? Harlan!"

But Harlan Wade was catatonic, breathing shallowly and staring straight at the floor.

" _...in the sky…"_

"What happened, Norton?!" Genevieve demanded. "Get my ops room up and running!"

"Sure, let me just wave my magic wand!"

Before she could round on him for his smartass comment, the monitors all switched back at once. The feeds were muted, and the room was utterly silent, but what she saw on the screens horrified her.

Bravo team looked upward as the lights in the Origin facility flickered and the video feed distorted. Suspended above them, high in the empty chamber, they saw Alpha team. Their bodies were twisted and contorted, fused together to make a symbol. Even in that blur of a moment, Genevieve recognized it. It was the Armacham logo—the same one that had just been displayed moments ago. Except, instead of neat, simple lines, and a dot at the center, they were limbs, torsos, and a severed head.

"Oh…" Genevieve covered her mouth to keep from vomiting in horror.

All at once, the screams of Bravo team came blasting through the speakers. The volume was deafeningly loud and brought her hands from her mouth to her ears. Everyone else cringed and screamed under the pressure of the noise, falling out of their chairs and hiding under their desks. Norton Mapes rolled on the ground, wailing like a child. Only Terry seemed in control of his faculties enough to dive over to the audio station. Without any pause, he yanked as many cables as he could out of the mixer, muting the feed again.

Slowly, everyone rose to their feet, staring in horror at the monitors. Then, the singing whispers returned, coming through clear as day from the disconnected speakers.

" _...all of you…"_

"No, no, no…" Harlan muttered, pressing himself up against the glass.

Genevieve stared in transfixed terror as Bravo team scrambled to trigger the up cycle for the magnetic lift. But even then, in that moment, she knew what was about to happen.

" _...deserve to die."_

The bodies of Alpha team smashed down onto Bravo, knocking all of them to the floor. Just before the cameras went black, she saw the bodies lift high in the air once more, before coming down hard. It looked like a child, smashing their toys together. Genevieve was only grateful she couldn't hear what that sounded like.

Then, she realized that Bravo Three was still alive, and alone.

"Terry, get my audio feed up!" She ordered. "Everyone, back at your stations! Now!"

"I warned you." Harlan muttered. "I warned all of you."

"Genevieve, what in the fuck have you done?" Carson hissed.

"Respectfully sir, I'll brief you later." She shoved him aside gently and took her place back at the intercom. "Bravo Three, if you can hear me, get back topside! I repeat, abort mission! Terry, where's my Goddamn audio?!"

"Up!" He answered, followed by a loud pop from the speakers.

" _-repeat, Bravo Team is en route back to my location. Standing by for orders."_

"Bravo Three, listen to me!" Genevieve said urgently. "Get out of there! Bravo team is gone! Alpha team is gone! Get topside, now!"

" _Say again, ops? They're on their way back up the lift now."_

"That isn't your team! Get OUT of there!"

" _Oh shit…"_

On the monitor, the waveforms spiked, and the last remaining video feed showed something crawling up the lift shaft. Bravo Three broke into a sprint back through the sector, breezing past hallways he and his team had so slowly crept through. It wasn't until he reached the door to sector one that he stopped.

" _H-hey, I'm shut in! We left it open! Can I get some help here?!"_

"Norton, what the fuck are you doing?!" Genevieve shouted.

"I'm locked out of the system!" He blurted, throwing his arms up.

"Bravo Three, can you use the maintenance tunnels to get back topside?"

" _Y-yeah. Standby."_

Everyone in the room held their breath as Bravo Three darted to the nearest access door. With every dark corner and flickering light, Genevieve felt her heart thump a little harder. When Bravo Three finally made it to one of the access doors, it was secured with a padlock. He didn't bother waiting for permission, blasting the lock with his shotgun.

"Good! Good, Bravo Three." She said breathlessly. "Now, talk to me. Do you know where you're going?"

" _Yeah, yeah... I just gotta keep heading south. I'll follow the wastewater pipe. Fuck, it stinks in here."_

"You're doing great, Bravo Three. Stay focused."

"He's already dead." Harlan said. "You don't realize what you've done."

"Carson, can you find somewhere for Harlan to lie down?" She asked, to which Carson reluctantly nodded. He tried bringing Harlan along, but the stubborn old man wanted nothing to do with it. Then, the two ATC officers came to escort him, and he went quietly.

Finally, she could return her full attention to monitoring the operation. In the waveform monitor, she saw that the energy signature was beginning to spike again, and the same video interference from before had returned.

"How far is he?" She asked Norton.

"I, er, at least five hundred meters from the main elevator. I can't tell from these schematics."

Suddenly, the camera feed showed that Bravo Three stopped.

"Bravo Three, you have to keep moving." She implored. "I know you're exhausted, but-"

" _I hear someone."_

"Bravo Three, do not stop!"

" _Can you… can anyone hear me? I…"_

On the monitor, the energy signal spiked, and the video feed was reduced to only a few frames per second.

" _I think… it's… needs my help. Do… hear her?"_

"Bravo Three, you have to keep moving forward!"

He didn't.

Instead, his camera turned around as he walked back towards the nearest bend. The maintenance tunnel was dark, lit only by amber running lights along the floor. All anyone in the operations room could do now was watch and hold their breath.

" _I… my head…"_

As soon as he rounded the corner, the lights in the operations room strobed, and the monitors went blue again. All except one, which showed the final image from Bravo Three's feed. Standing at the opposite end of the maintenance hall was the silhouette of a child. Genevieve leaned over the railing for a closer look, her eyes squinting. Just before her eyes could process what she was seeing, the image changed.

Bravo Three hadn't moved at all, but the child was no longer just a shape. Standing right at his hip, there was a girl. Black, oily hair draped over her pale face. She had a cold and angry expression—one of hatred and hunger. A long sleeved dress hung from her tiny body, the dark crimson color of blood. The last thing Genevieve saw were the girl's eyes, hot and fierce and monstrous things. They were not the eyes of a child, but of a nightmare.

Then, the monitors went black.'

* * *

 **Two Weeks Later**

" _What's the first thing you remember?"_

Jin Su-Kwon sat across from the new recruit with her legs crossed. She studied him with a practiced eye. His demeanor was calm and quiet, and she didn't sense any tension from him. In fact, she didn't sense much of anything at all. Unlike most people she evaluated, there was nothing beneath the surface. No rage, no anxiety, just a stillness that spread out to the rest of the room.

Between that and the mask he wore, the team's new Point Man was a difficult read. His files weren't much easier.

"It says here your name is… classified?" Jin asked, flipping through his folder. There were only a few sheets, and most of them had been heavily censored. "That's not too uncommon, but I don't know why they wouldn't give you an alias."

Point Man shrugged.

"How about I just call you Point, for short, huh?" She smiled. "Do you mind telling me a little bit about what you're wearing? I've never seen a mask like that."

Indeed, it was a peculiar head ornament. It covered every square inch of his head, as snug as a ski mask, but it seemed to be made out of some sort of hardened mesh. The base was a midnight blue, and appeared flexible yet tough. A more rigid layer stretched across the dome of his skull and over his ears, and it was as dark as charcoal. His red visor contrasted sharply, reflecting the room. It also appeared meticulously custom fitted, reaching all the way down the neck and to the top of his collarbone.

He didn't say anything in response to her question, despite the mask having a small mouth vent for breathing and speaking. Instead, he just tapped his head and pointed to the file. Jin flipped through the documents until she saw what he must have been referring to. She clicked her tongue and frowned when she came across the medical history.

"I'm so sorry, I must have missed this." She said. "It says here you're mute?"

He nodded.

"Do you sign?"

 _I do._ He signed.

"Well that'll make communicating in the field a bit of a challenge. But I'll talk to Betters about getting something set up for you. I'm sure we'll come to an arrangement."

 _Appreciated._ Point Man signed.

Even now, he was a man of few words.

"You're certainly the most unique recruit we've ever gotten. But you came highly recommended. _Insisted_ might be the better word, actually. We've never gotten any direct requests from Congress before."

 _Never?_ Point Man signed.

"Not regarding personnel."

He cocked his head, and somehow she understood him.

"It's not a problem. Not for me, anyway. So long as you do your job, and… take that thing off when you shower… we're square."

He nodded in agreement.

"Good… now, my ASL is a little rusty but I think I can still understand you well enough. It should be just fine for my evaluation."

Jin studied him and saw that he didn't seem uncomfortable with being examined, almost like it was an old routine. She couldn't help becoming curious as she spent more time with him.

To start him off, she covered the basics of First Encounter Assault Recon, or F.E.A.R. for short. It was a rather kitschy acronym, but she had grown used to it. And lately, given their line of work, it was well deserved. After all, fear of the unknown was man's greatest fear, and F.E.A.R. specialized in the unknown.

Since the turn of the 21st century, more and more developments had been made in the field of psionic research. Telepathy, telekinesis, psychic communication—once subjects of science fiction—had become mainstream science. Of course, with any new and powerful discovery, there also came a propensity for accidents. Over the past two decades, the world had seen its first instances of psychic anomalies trickle into the public sphere. Mass hallucinations, amnesia, and psychosis were all the results of these experiments breaching their controlled environment.

Jin's own experience with empathetic projection made her uniquely qualified to serve as the F.E.A.R. team's technical officer. Her job included everything from psychological evaluation to forensic analysis. It was difficult for most people to know the exact science behind psychic phenomena, but she had a talent for it. Sometimes it wasn't about cold, hard facts, but intuition. She had plenty of that.

All her time had been dedicated to F.E.A.R. over the last two years. She had meant to return home to Seoul by now, to see her parents and consider settling down. After all, she was still young, and beautiful too. The physical demands of her job kept her fit and healthy, but the stress was beginning to show beneath her eyes. Each year she considered resigning, and each year she worked more cases than the last.

"Essentially, you'll be the assault and reconnaissance element of F.E.A.R." She explained. "And if you do engage in a first encounter, you're to stand by and observe until a tech officer, like myself, can conduct a proper examination. Mostly, though, we keep psychic technology from falling into the wrong hands. So there'll also be the usual bag and tag ops. Nothing new to you, I'm sure."

Point Man didn't say anything.

"Right, well… now that you've been given the general rundown. I'd like to talk more about you. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about yourself?"

He nodded.

"Good. Let's start with how you got here. Usually we seek out new recruits, but you came to us, letter of recommendation and everything. Why is that?"

 _Challenge._ He signed.

"You were looking for more challenging work?"

A nod.

"So, were you attracted to the paranormal aspects of the work? Did that strike you as challenging?"

He tilted his head a little, neither a yes or no. Jin made a note of that.

"Okay. So, let's discuss your psychological record. Most of it's been censored in your file, but I'd like to think we can be a little more open in here. Any history of trauma?"

There was a beat, only a slight one, before he shook his head no.

"You're thirty-one years old, and you've been in the Army since you were eighteen." She reminded him slowly. "Combat deployments, special ops—and I've only seen the ones they haven't blacked out. Thirteen years of covert operations, and you have no psychological impairments? No PTSD whatsoever?"

He shook his head.

"Well, if it's true, that's quite a remarkable accomplishment. Not only that you've had such a decorated career, but that you've managed to stay fit for duty. Let me ask another question. Have you always been unable to speak?"

He nodded.

Jin made a note of that. She could rule out that his lack of speech resulted from a traumatic event, at least for now. The session continued more or less the same way going forward. She would ask him questions, in great detail, and he'd answer in his brief fashion. He was terse, but not vague, so she didn't pry. Although, she had already gone against her superior's recommendations by evaluating him in the first place. They had told her not to bother asking him about his past, but Jin never got anywhere by not asking questions.

Regarding his family, there was no record of them in his file, at least none that she could see. The same went for his academic record and most of his early military career. When she asked him about his family, he indicated to her that he didn't have any. Just as with everything else, he seemed unbothered by the bleakness of it.

"Now, this next part is required before I clear you for duty." She said. "So please answer honestly. It's very important."

He nodded.

"In order to prevent any field mishaps, we need to identify triggers with each team member. That way we can recognize which scenarios might be compromising. It's for your own safety that we understand what to keep an eye on, particularly in the event of psychic phenomena. Now, do you have any emotional triggers that make you feel afraid or panicked? It could be a certain smell, maybe a phobia, or even just a sound that makes you feel uncomfortable."

There was a long moment of silence, and for a while Jin didn't think he was going to respond. He stared down at the floor, tapping one finger quietly on the arm of his chair. Then, he looked at her and answered with slow hands.

 _Crying._

"Let me make sure I'm understanding you correctly. This means crying, yes?"

She mimicked the sign he made and he nodded.

"Can you specify? Do you mean… you crying, someone else crying?"

He hesitated for a moment, and for once seemed to be at a loss of words. Then he shook his head slowly and cradled his arms under his chest, rocking them back and forth.

"A baby? A baby crying?"

He nodded.

Jin made a note of that and pursed her lips. That wasn't an unheard of trigger—though it was more common with parents who had lost a child or an infant. She wondered if he might have been a father once, but surely he would have mentioned it. The simple truth was, there was no real history to Point Man. She couldn't tell anything about his personality, other than that he was reserved yet compliant. She really had nothing to assess aside from his abnormal trigger. And even then, that only filled her with more questions.

"I'd like to ask you one more thing, and then I'll let you go." She said. "This isn't a part of the evaluation—more of a personal curiosity. Is that alright?"

He waited patiently for her to continue, but she noted that he didn't answer. Regardless, she asked her question.

"What's the first thing you remember?"

Once again, he looked down at the floor. This time, it didn't take him as long to think. When he answered, Jin felt her skin crawl a little.

 _Crying._ He signed.

She paused for a moment, doing her best to see through those blood-red visors, but all she saw was a reflection of herself. There was more to this man than a lonely childhood and accomplished military career. He had experienced pain, even if he did well to hide it from her. Jin's gift for empathetic reading didn't always rely on the emotions of those she studied. Sometimes she put the pieces together from the emptiness they carried with them. Point Man was a deep well of nothing, but something had to have been there once, there was no doubt.

The real question was, who or what could have hollowed him out?

"The first thing you remember is crying?" She asked. "A baby crying, by any chance?"

He nodded.

"Do you know who this baby might be?"

He nodded again, but when she waited for an answer, it never came.

* * *

Michael Beckett awoke with a sour taste in his mouth from the night before. He and his wife had taken full advantage of the stocked fridge in their hotel room. This was the first time the Army had flown him out somewhere in such style. Usually, they remained on call until the orders came in. This time, they'd left him waiting on his own for much longer than usual. Whatever the operation was, it must have been big and important to spend this kind of money. Either way, he wasn't complaining, because it took him home.

Fairport was a bit of a mixed sprawl, equal parts shine and blister. Though, in recent years, the blisters had begun to spread, particularly near the waterfront. The view outside didn't matter to Beckett, though. He had an eyeful right here in this king sized bed, laying beside his queen. Naomi Beckett was a vision, especially in the light of the morning overcast. Straight black hair draped over her pale, marble skin. She was petite in the arms and neck, but had the curvy shapes of a grown woman. Her face was hidden under his arm, shielded from the offending morning light.

"Wake up, Nomes." He teased. "Time for morning sex."

"Mmmm, that happened last night..." She grumbled.

"No, that was night sex." He kissed her back and brushed her hair aside. "This is the morning. It's different. We smell bad and we're sober."

"Hnng… that sounds awful…"

Beckett sighed and resigned to kiss his wife on the cheek before turning back over. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, feeling the dull throb of a hangover settle over him. Then, he felt his wife's hand take his, stroking his palm. Her fingers were tiny compared to his—actually, all of her was. He was a tall man, thick with muscle and square-jawed. But there was a kindness in his eyes, a kindness she had fallen in love with. She peeked up at him from behind her dark curtain of hair, little grey eyes staring mischievously.

"What are you up to, stinker?" He whispered with a gentle smile.

She grinned and pulled his hand lower, tucking it between her legs. He felt the heat and wetness coming off of her even before he touched her skin. With a sharp moan, she slipped one of his fingers inside of her.

By the time they had both showered and eaten breakfast, it was past eleven hundred hours. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the Army was giving him a paid vacation. He kept checking his phone every thirty minutes, waiting for orders to come in, but they never did.

"I'm so glad you're home." Naomi said, buttoning up her shirt. "It's been lonely. I almost got desperate."

"Well, hey, you know our rule." He smirked.

"Yeah, only girls, and send pictures."

"Damn right."

She smacked him on his broad chest, giggling and shaking her head. He took a moment to look at her, hair wet and face naked. Even like that, she was like a photograph. Sometimes when he studied her, he thought of all the things that came together in order to make her. Her father was a Japanese television actor, and he'd been swept off his feet by an American sailor. Naomi had gotten the best of both their looks, and had her mother's tenacity along with her father's charm. It made her a dangerous woman, but Beckett appreciated a little danger.

More importantly, she had integrity. She was someone he could trust—a foundation as steady as he was. They were solid together, even though they had pursued entirely different lives. She was a reporter, working for one of the last independent media outlets in Fairport. Beckett didn't have many opinions about the world—it was too complicated and noisy to judge. Naomi seemed to understand that too, but she put herself out there anyway, trying to make sense of the chaos. It was that compassion and drive which kept her in his mind, every hour of every day, no matter how far apart they were.

"Off the record," She said, using one of their inside jokes. "How long do you think they'll let you stay?"

"I have no idea why I'm even here." He admitted. "The Army's usually kept a tight lip, but this… is something else. Something big."

"Big, you say? Can we go back on the record, or-?"

Beckett chuckled and lifted her into his arms, making her laugh. She wrapped her legs around him and ran her fingers through his hair. He felt the curves of her ass fill his hands as he slipped a finger underneath her panties.

"Michael!" She smacked him playfully. "If we fuck all day, we're not gonna have time for anything else!"

"What else is there?"

"Food that isn't from a cafeteria." She reminded him.

"Oh shit, you're right!" He grinned, setting her down. "Put some clothes on, girl! We gotta go!"

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

...

Carlos' Cafe was just on the outskirts of the Auburn district, and neither the neighborhood nor the restaurant had aged well. Even the people looked tired and ready to crumble. Beckett had fond memories of this place when he was a child, but the cafe had since lost much of its charm. There used to be photos of all the kids caught with fake ID's posted above the bar, but they had since been replaced by a pair of flat screens. The old jukebox was gone, and in its place was an older model LED touch screen mounted to the wall.

Some things were still the same, though. There were still old photos from the cafe's founding back in the 1980's. There had been old arcade games then, and some of the cabinet art had been stripped and plastered to the wall. The stools at the bar counter all looked the same, though they might have been the one thing worth replacing. Overall, the cafe looked like a corpse—something that used to be alive but just wasn't anymore. The same could be said for much of Fairport.

"Can I take your order?" The waitress asked tersely.

Naomi gave him a raised eyebrow, but he smiled at the server as if he didn't notice.

"Hmmm… I'm having trouble here." Beckett pondered. "What's your favorite?"

"I… guess the bacon burger is good."

"That does sound good. Alright then, I'll take a bacon burger with extra cheese. Hold the onion. And double the pickles."

"You're nasty." Naomi quipped.

"What's wrong with pickles?"

"They just sit there, floating in a nasty juice, like a dead body or-"

"And for you ma'am?" The waitress interrupted.

"Uh, yeah," Naomi hesitated, frowning. "I'll have, the chicken tenders, I guess?"

"Okay." The waitress said, before walking away.

"Um, wait! Excuse me!" Naomi called after her. "What about our drinks?"

The waitress doubled back and flipped open her notepad, waiting patiently without a word. Naomi had that look on her face which telegraphed and impending lecture.

"Two Doctor Cherry's, please." Beckett cut in, before things could escalate. "Thank you, Miss."

As soon as the waitress walked away, disappearing into the kitchen, Naomi gave him a baffled look.

"What the fuck was that?" She whispered. "I mean I get if she's having a bad day or something, but… damn."

"It's not just a bad day." Beckett said seriously, still looking at the door where the waitress had disappeared.

For as long as he could remember, he had possessed the unique ability to sense what other people were thinking. It wasn't so much that he could read their thoughts, but that he could see their state of mind. There were nuances when combing through thoughts and emotions, all of them forming different outcomes. Sometimes Beckett could predict people's actions, before they even thought about them. He didn't quite know how it worked. It just seemed like new information would suddenly appear in his mind, as if it had been whispered to him.

"What do you mean?" Naomi asked quietly. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's going to kill herself." He answered, still staring back at the kitchen. "Probably when her shift ends."

His wife was quiet, studying him intently. They had been through enough together and she knew him well enough not to be skeptical about his hunch. Instead, she looked just as concerned as he did. That was another reason why he loved her. She always believed him, even when no one else ever had.

When the waitress came back, they acted natural. She set the drinks down at their table, but Beckett caught her before she could leave.

"Why don't you sit down with us?" He offered. "I bet you've been on your feet all day."

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go make sure-"

"Oh come on, there's no one else in here." Naomi beamed. "We'll vouch for you if anyone comes looking."

"O-okay."

The waitress sat down awkwardly at the checkered table, offering a tight smile and shuffling her fingers.

"Uh, are you two new to Fairport?" She asked.

"I'm from Tokyo, but Michael here was born and raised in this city." Naomi answered.

"Yeah, I went to school over at Wade Elementary." Beckett added. "And then I went to high school, till I was about sixteen. Then I lied, said I was eighteen and joined the Army."

"And they still haven't kicked him out." His wife teased, but the waitress looked uncomfortable, like something he said had affected her.

"Oh, uh, Wade Elementary," The waitress remarked, changing the subject. "That's… that's where my son goes."

"You have a little boy, huh?" He grinned. "How old?"

"He's s-seven."

"You're pretty young yourself, aren't you?" Naomi asked gently.

"Y-yeah… I had him my junior year. Been working here since then. It's... " The waitress looked over her shoulder at the kitchen, but no one seemed to notice her absence. "It's been really hard lately. They've been cutting my hours."

"Yeah, it looks like things are slow." Beckett nodded.

Without warning, the waitress suddenly burst into tears, hiding her face behind her hands.

"I'm so sorry…" She sniffled, trying desperately to pull herself back together. "I don't know why I'm-"

"Hey, hey, honey, it's okay!" Naomi said, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Shhh, shhh. What's your name, sweetheart?"

The girl looked up at her through broken sobs and spoke quietly.

"Crystal."

"What's going on, Crystal? Talk to me."

"Oh my God, I'm gonna get fired. I can't be doing this." She pushed out her chair, but then Beckett held out a hand to calm her.

"What's your son's name, Crystal?" He asked, stopping her from leaving.

For a moment she looked at him with confusion. Why did he care? Why was he asking her these things? But then she saw his eyes, caught by them like everyone else. They were what gave people permission to talk—to be vulnerable. They already saw everything.

"I… it's Marcus Junior."

Then, the pieces clicked together and the big picture unfolded.

"It's been hard without his father, hasn't it?" He asked.

Crystal looked at him with a little surprise, but then nodded her head.

"Where did he serve?"

Again, she looked surprised, but answered.

"Syria. It was two years ago." Then she broke down. "I keep having nightmares about it! And my son, he keeps saying he still sees his daddy around the apartment! And it's so hard to keep telling him that he's not coming home!"

Naomi looked at her husband with a mix of astonishment and sadness.

"Y'know, Crystal, I just realized, I didn't finish my order."

She looked up at him with confusion, tears in her eyes.

"I'll have another bacon burger, however you like it." He continued. "Have them cook it at the end of your shift. And what's Marcus Junior's favorite thing on the menu?"

Her crying stopped, and instead she just looked at a loss for words.

"I-It's…"

 _Ding. Ding. Ding._

"Order's up!" The kitchen staff called.

The waitress wiped her face hastily and hurried over to the counter, grabbing the food and rushing it back over to their table.

"Please let me know if you need anything else." The waitress said quickly.

"Just those two other orders." Beckett smiled, passing her three bills. She looked at the three hundreds with a mixture of hurt and conflict, but then set the other two back on the table.

"I'll be back with your change." She muttered, keeping her head low.

He looked at his wife and shook his head. She reached out and touched his hand, reassuring him. Beckett had learned to deal with what his therapist called "empathy overload". Whenever he tapped into other people, particularly people like Crystal, he shouldered their pain almost as much as they did. Even though he had coping skills to help with it, the overload was always inevitable.

"I think she's already made up her mind." Naomi worried, her eyes glistening. "I don't know if she wants help. We might have to call someone."

Beckett cleared his throat and shook his head stubbornly. No, he knew how the system worked. That would only set her further back, and there was still a chance for her. He just had to say the right thing. This pain, it was only temporary. There were other things in the world worth staying for. He had to remind her of that.

"Here's your change." Crystal said, laying the bills and coins on top of the others. "Thank you, sir."

"What did you get him?" Beckett asked. "Your son? What's his favorite?"

Crystal hesitated, and then spoke softly.

"The bacon burger."

Beckett smiled.

"Just like his mom, huh?"

Then, he felt something different in Crystal. There was a warmth there now that hadn't been before. With a smile, she nodded and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes.

...

As he and Naomi left the diner, they made it only a few meters before Crystal came calling after them.

"Sir! Sir!"

They turned and regarded her with a warm smile.

"Did I forget something?" Beckett asked.

"You forgot your money on the table." She said, holding out the two hundred dollar bills.

He looked at her with a solemn face and shook his head. Crystal wasn't just another victim of this city—she had a good heart as well. There were too few people who struggled like she did and still had enough left in them to be honest. He pushed the bills back towards her and smiled. With a shy nod, she tucked the money away in her apron, but then looked up at him.

"H-how did you know about my husband?" Crystal asked. "You don't know me."

Naomi glanced at him with curious eyes, wondering how he would answer.

"When my sister died, my dad saw her everywhere." He said. "He always had this look on his face like he was seeing her ghost, anytime anything reminded him of her. You got that same look on your face as soon as I mentioned my deployment."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't apologize. Not ever. But could you do me a favor, Crystal?"

"Okay?"

"Keep the change. Take Marcus Junior. And get the hell out of Fairport."

...

On their way to the subway, they passed by an old park that had since fallen into disrepair. So much of Fairport looked dead. Hell, not just dead, but rotting. The city was always quiet, but never ugly. It felt strange taking Naomi through the streets he had loved as a child. Here she was, the most beautiful thing in his life, seeing the ugliest side of it.

And yet, she didn't seem to notice any of it. All she could look at was him.

"You are one of a kind, Michael Beckett." Naomi cooed. "How do you do it?"

Beckett looked at her with an oblivious smile and cocked his head. He knew what she meant, but he liked to hear her talk.

"How do you know what people are feeling?" She clarified.

"Off the record?" He asked.

Naomi laughed and nodded.

"Maybe I just notice the little things."

"Oh, come on, it has to be more than that."

"Well, I noticed you, didn't I?"

"You mother f-" She bit her lip and smacked at his shoulder playfully, chasing him down the street. Just as he was about to grab her, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. Both of them got quiet as he pulled his phone out and revealed the text message.

 _Joint Briefing at 1400. Location coordinates attached._

"Well shit." Beckett swore. "Vacation's over."

He took a deep breath and navigated to the rideshare app, ordering a car back to the hotel. They would have to explore the Auburn subways together some other time, if they ever got the chance.

"Hey," Naomi said, kissing him. "I love you, Mikey."

"I love you, Nomes."

As they embraced, a cool breeze swept up the street, whisking away the warmth of the sun. He didn't let it bother him though. All he wanted to do was kiss and hold his wife until their car arrived. Even so, in that quiet Auburn slum, he thought he felt a pair of eyes watching him from one of the many hollowed out buildings. This city was full of pain and anger and suffering, he had come to realize. Something as happy as them wasn't welcome here.

* * *

With a swift kick to the back of the leg, Blair Jankowski sent her brother to the mat with a charlie horse. She cackled victoriously as he groaned in agony, much to the amusement of their audience. Redd Jankowski was a fair bit bigger than his sister, but Blair had speed and reflexes no one had ever been able to compete with. When it came down to a brawl, or a firefight, time seemed to slow in half.

That seemed especially true on this op, which had them sitting around for days, waiting on a briefing that felt like it would never come. Now that they were an hour away from finding out why they were all here, she felt restless. There were three ways she liked to calm her nerves—drinking, fucking, and fighting. The first two she couldn't do while on duty, but the third she could manage just fine. Luckily the F.E.A.R. operations facility had a full gym complete with a sparring ring.

"You're a fuckin' bitch!" Her brother spat, still clutching his thigh.

"Hey twerp, I still outrank you."

"Blow it out your ass, ma'am!"

"Button that shit up Jankowski." Cedric Griffin cut in. "Uh, Redd, that is. Not you, ma'am."

Blair gave him a cheeky smile. He was a tall, imposing man with a charming demeanor-her favorite type. Then again, aside from her Aryan looking brothers, all the men here were her type. All different colors, but still packing that same military meat on their bones. This is why she avoided these kinds of joint operations. Meeting new people meant getting herself into trouble.

"Whose ass haven't I kicked yet?" Blair grinned, throwing her arms wide. "Jin, what about you? Know any karate?"

"I'll pass." Jin replied with a tight smile.

So far she had already beaten her brothers Spencer and Redd easily. They were the only ones smart enough not to take it easy on her. The other three, members of Delta squad, weren't so wise. Harold Keegan was overly concerned with damaging her and ended up with his face planted in the mat. James Fox took her a little more seriously, but his age and experience weren't a match for her speed. She took it easier on the old timer, though. Manuel Morales, however, was the little guy who gave it his all and went down quicker than any of them. Blair suggested that he stick to driving the APC, and he muttered something about dirty genitals in spanish.

"C'mon, Griffin, you don't wanna play?" Blair teased.

"Oh, I don't hit ladies." Griffin answered, to which the others booed.

"Do I look like a lady to you?"

He looked her up and down and smiled deviously.

"Yes ma'am, you do."

The other members of F.E.A.R. and Delta hooted and hollered, with the exception of her brothers, who groaned.

"Well, y'know Griffin, some ladies like being roughed up a little." She smirked, but he shook his head with a laugh and backed away from the ring. "Stokes, what about you?" She asked. "Where's Stokes?"

"She hitched a ride with Bucket." Redd told her. "Manny says she's got a thing for him."

"Hey, I didn't say shit!" Manny retorted.

"Ha! Have you seen his wife?" Keegan scoffed. "Stokes ain't a match for that."

"What about Point?" Jin interrupted, and everyone looked at her.

"What about what now?" Spencer asked.

"Our new Point Man." She clarified, gesturing to the man beside her. "You haven't fought him yet, have you?"

Blair looked to the man in the mask and felt her spine crawl a little. She wasn't sure if she was excited or disturbed by that headpiece he wore. There was no telling what he looked like underneath. For some reason, that bothered her.

"Alright luchador." She waved, pushing aside her feelings. "Let's see what you got."

Point Man looked to Jin, who gave him a nod. As he stepped up to the mat, their audience cheered and egged each other on, eager to see what the newcomer was capable of. He hadn't said a word to anyone since arriving, and she hadn't seen him take that mask off either.

"Yo, buddy, you going skiing or something?" She taunted. "Hell, do you sleep with that thing on?"

"Kick her ass, Point!" Redd called.

"Looks like you got an admirer." Blair smiled, but then she put her fists up. Her opponent didn't do the same, instead keeping his arms low and knees bent. "You gotta keep those hands up buddy. Or I'm gonna knock that Halloween mask right off your hea-"

She took her first swing in the middle of her taunting, but something happened she hadn't expected. Before she even realized he had moved his feet, her opponent was behind her. Using the momentum of her own swing, he threw her to the ground quicker than she could counter. The move caught her off guard, but she recovered quick enough with a roll.

"Holy shit!" Redd gawked.

"Did you fucking see that?" Keegan hissed. "No, seriously! Because I blinked and then he was behind her!"

"I ain't never seen nobody move like that." Griffin said quietly.

Blair felt the tide turning against her. All she could see on her opponent's face was her own red reflection in his visor. Was he even trying? She couldn't tell.

"Alright, you got moves." Blair nodded, feeling her lungs tighten. "But how about we stop playing?"

With a lunge, she moved to fake him out with a cross and bring him down with a knee to his inner thigh. But just as her knee was about to connect, she felt a hard jab knock the wind out of her. He had slid along the inside of her leg and shoved the point of his elbow right into her diaphragm. She grunted in pain but didn't let that stop her from countering. He was right there, caught between her right arm and her left fist. She wound it back with all her strength, keeping him clutched with the other arm. Before she could trap him into a punch lock, she felt the air being pummeled out of her.

"Yo, hold up!" Spencer shouted, but no one was listening.

For the first time ever, she felt her body give in. Her arms went limp, and her brain went hazy. In a brief moment of terror, she imagined this was what it felt like to be killed. But Point Man wasn't killing her, was he? No, he was just driving his fists into her stomach faster than a jackhammer. All she could think about was getting away—escaping this monster.

"That's enough!" Her brother shouted, rushing onto the mat.

Blair collapsed into Spencer's arms, choking and gasping for breath, while her other brother rushed between her and her masked opponent.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Redd demanded.

"Jesus Christ." Fox muttered. "He was a goddamn blur."

"Yo, whatever the fuck your name is," Spencer growled at Point Man. "We're on the same team, remember?"

Her opponent simply looked down at her with that pitiless mask of his.

"What's the matter, Jankowski?" A newcomer called. "You look like you got your ass beat."

Douglas Holiday walked into the gym, accompanied by Keira Stokes and Michael Beckett. He was a lean, black, cocky looking son of a bitch, and was also F.E.A.R. Team Alpha's group leader. That meant Spencer answered to him, even if she didn't. Her brother bit his tongue as he helped her to her feet. Beckett and Stokes held back a good distance from the scene, but Holiday walked right onto the mat.

"You must be our new Point Man." He grinned, extending a hand. The masked recruit shook it tersely. "Good to see you can handle yourself. Blair here was gettin' to be a real problem with all that shit talk."

She might have had a little more to give him, but just then she was trying to remember how to breathe.

"Looks like someone finally knocked the smart right outta your ass, Jankowski." Holiday grinned, patting her on the shoulder. "Go get cleaned up!" He ordered the rest of them. "Briefing in thirty minutes!"

...

"I hate to break up all the cheerful camaraderie," Betters said, standing at the head of the briefing room. "But unfortunately this isn't a social event. You've all been called in for a potential operation."

"Potential?" Blair repeated. "So _maybe_ we're here for a reason?"

"Yes, Jankowski. Is that a problem?"

"No, sir." Redd answered before she could, then turned to her. "Y'know every time you open your mouth, you drag our name through your bullshit."

"I think that's why she does it." Spencer added, whispering to Griffin. " _She's got daddy issues_."

"Am I interrupting a family vacation?" Betters asked.

"No, sir." Blair answered, elbowing Spencer hard in the ribs.

"Good, then don't interrupt my briefing." He said, giving her a stern look. Betters was a career man, pushing into his late forties, with the jowls to prove it. She could tell he was usually laid back, but only because he could afford to be. That type of demeanor was earned in their line of work, and she knew he could make her life hell if she pushed him, so she backed down.

"There is a reason you're all on standby. The higher ups don't want any stumbling around once the green light comes. They want you shined and primed on go. Do you understand?"

"What's so important that we all gotta sleep with our boots on?" Fox asked.

"I was just getting to that." Betters said, switching to the next image. They saw a familiar corporate logo mounted at the crest of an enormous office complex. The symbol composed of three square diamonds, arranged in a pyramid with the bottom two diamonds linked to the top center on either side by short, simple lines. At the center of the top diamond there was a dot, reminding Blair eerily of the all-seeing eye.

"Armacham?" Jin Su-Kwon asked. Blair noted that the tech officer gave an odd look to Point Man before turning back to Betters.

"Who's Army Cam?" Redd asked.

"Armacham Technology Corporation." Betters corrected him." They're a multinational conglomerate specializing in computer technology, pharmaceuticals, aerospace, bio-engineering, communications-"

"Doesn't specialize mean focusing on one thing?" Redd remarked.

"Yeah, like you specialize in being a dumbass." Griffin remarked. "Keep your mouth shut, Jankowski."

"All three of you." Holiday added.

"And weapons development." Betters finished, ignoring the outburst. "They've been on a number of watch-lists since the late 1980's. Mostly due to rumors of unethical research and human testing, but nothing ever stuck."

"So who did they piss off enough to get all of us in one room?" Keegan asked.

"Uncle Sam." Beckett answered, turning everyone's attention to him. "Armacham's been making a shift to China over the last decade-in both market and labor. And their defense contracts with the US have run dry since we pulled out of Syria. Basically, they made their money off the taxpayer, and now they're bringing all that capital overseas."

"That, and they haven't exactly kept their hands clean over the past forty years." Stokes added. "Basically, the DOJ is looking for any excuse to fine the shit out of them."

"Or bring them down for good." Jin nodded.

A series of murmurs followed that, and Blair saw some of her comrades look annoyed. She couldn't blame them. After all, they were being used to settle a score between the United States government and a subsidized monster of its own making.

"It's not our job to speculate." Betters reminded them. "All we know is that an inside source has leaked information regarding _possibly_ illegal operations being conducted in Fairport. Most likely, we're looking at a data raid. Nice, quick, and quiet."

"So why are you people here?" Keegan asked, looking at the F.E.A.R. teams.

"I do believe this is our headquarters, sergeant." Holiday pointed out. "Better question is, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Look, I mean, no offense to either of my dear siblings." Redd cut in. "But this doesn't sound like the kind of op that needs the ghostbusters."

A few on Delta squad chortled, but the F.E.A.R. operatives remained serious, including Blair.

"Believe me, sergeant." Jin told him. "We wouldn't be here unless we were needed."

"In other words, shut your mouth." Blair told him.

"So what you're really saying is... Armacham's been up to some spooky shit?" Griffin asked. "Like psychic warfare?"

"You'll know more once the light is green." Betters cut in. "Until then, you've been briefed. Dismissed."

...

"Hey, Sergeant Beckett!" Blair called, and the sergeant turned to face her. The rest of the team continued filing out into the mess hall. "Didn't get a chance to meet you yet. Heard you were playing hooky around town?"

"My wife and I were, yes." He answered with a smile.

"Oh, well from what I hear about her, I don't blame ya."

"Is that right?" He sighed. "Jesus, Manny."

"Ah, come on, ain't nobody gonna nab her from ya." She said, throwing her arm around him. "Besides, the way I hear your Delta buddies talk about you, no one would fucking dare."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Nah, I'm serious Beckett. They all vouch for you, even though you're the new guy. It ain't often the greenhorn don't get shit on twenty-four-seven. Hell even my idiot brother admits you got it where it counts, and he thinks you've got your head up your ass."

"Your brother?"

"He calls you Bucket."

"Oh, Jankowski. Isn't there another Jankowski on-?"

"On Alpha, yeah. I'm a Jankowski as well. Bravo Team. Just call me Blair, to keep things straight. We're all siblings. Didn't mean it to happen this way, just did. That's what we get for all being Army brats."

"I'll keep that in mind." Beckett nodded. "Good to meet you, Blair."

"So, do you?" Blair asked, stretching the conversation. He stopped moving away and looked at her patiently.

"Do I what?"

"Have it where it counts? You a badass motherfucker, like they say?"

A dark look crossed Beckett's face. Blair realized that he might not view this line of work the same way she did. Not everyone did. Some people were more sensitive about the nitty gritty of it than others. Even if Beckett was a badass, it didn't look like he was a cowboy.

"I get the job done." He told her.

Before she could respond, there was another person standing beside them. He had moved so quietly, just like on the mat, she didn't even hear him approach. When she saw the red glint of his visor in the corner of her eye, her heart raced a little.

"Jesus, Point." She swore. "You're a sneaky bastard, aren't ya?"

Point Man didn't say anything, as usual, but instead he moved his hand up to his chest and rotated it in a circle. Then, he extended it to her, and she stared at him in bewilderment for a moment before shaking it. The masked man regarded Beckett with a nod and then continued past them as quietly as he came.

"He gives me the fucking creeps." Blair said. "That's the other new guy, by the way. Don't know if you've met him."

"He was saying sorry." Beckett pointed out.

"Sorry?"

"For hurting you earlier."

"You know sign language?"

"Nope." He shook his head, then continued past her into the mess hall. She watched as he and Point Man sat at opposite ends of the lunch table. Between the two of them, she didn't know who got her more bothered. All she knew was she had seen what Point Man could do firsthand, and her brother Redd only disliked someone if they intimidated him. That meant Beckett was no princess, either. For a brief moment, she thought she saw the two newcomers make eye contact with each other. She imagined the two of them on that mat, wondering what it would look like from the outside.

"Now that's something I'd like to see." Blair mused.

* * *

"Hey Bill, come look at this!"

From the warehouse behind her, Alice Wade could hear her assistant stumbling over litter and cursing. He emerged from the building exasperated, shoving aside rusty barrels that blocked his path. Other than his noisemaking, the wharf was eerily silent. Alice remembered when her father took her here as a girl. The gulls always sounded like they were laughing, she would say. If they could see Bill Moody stumbling over to her now, they would be laughing as hard as ever.

But there were no gulls here anymore. There wasn't anything alive in Fairport's harbor. It had been that way for well over two years now.

"Jesus, how did you get here so fast?" Bill panted, jostling up to her.

"I'm skinny." Alice told him. Indeed, she was thin as a rail, and tall too. Her blonde hair was done up in a tight bun, keeping her blue eyes clear to focus on the task at hand. "Bill, look at this."

"What?" He asked, looking out into the water. "What am I looking at?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled him closer to the ledge, making him panic a little. Alice stood with her toes hanging just over the edge of the concrete. It was about a six foot drop down into the water, which had a sickly brownish green color to it.

"Oh God." Bill gasped, covering his nose.

Right where the water slapped against the concrete, a thick clump of debris formed a line down to each end of the wharf. It clung to the concrete like sludge, comprised of trash, brown foam, and most notably, hundreds of dead birds.

"I think we know why it's so quiet now." Alice said darkly, fastening a rubber glove to each hand. "Do you have the claw?"

"Er, yeah… right here."

He handed the grip extender to her and she squeezed the handle to make sure it functioned properly.

"Hold on to my hips." Alice told him.

"Sure." He nodded, placing his hands gingerly on either side of her.

"So I won't fall over, Bill."

"Right, sorry."

As he tightened his grip, she could hear him sigh anxiously. Truthfully, they had been working together long enough now to where this shouldn't have been an issue. It seemed Bill was still a bit of a schoolboy at heart. That didn't bother her so much, though. At least he was better behaved than some of the other men she worked with. If she were being honest, she felt more at ease picking dead birds out of trash water than being in that office.

"You still dating that one girl?" Alice asked, sifting the claw through debris.

"Wha-? I, uh, no. No, she stopped answering my texts."

"That's too bad, she was cute. Mind if I give her a call?"

"Funny, Alice."

"Who's joking?" She grunted, hoisting the dead gull up onto the concrete. It plopped beside her with a wet splat. The eyes were milky and swollen, staring up at the skies where it once cackled at the world below. Alice produced a specimen bag from her jacket and unfolded it, sliding the corpse inside.

"Mark this for the lab." She handed the bag to Bill, who hadn't put on his gloves yet. Still, he took it between two fingers and set it down on the ground, writing a department name on the label.

"Y'know, we have employees for this sort of thing." Bill complained. "Hundreds of them."

"I like getting out of the office."

She produced a capsule for taking water samples and fastened it to the end of the claw, laying down on the concrete to reach better.

"We should at least bring a security team with us." He insisted. "This isn't exactly the best part of town."

"Even criminals don't go here." She said, hoisting the capsule back up and fastening the lid. "Relax, Bill. You think my father doesn't have a team tailing us right now?"

Bill swallowed hard and checked over his shoulder, making her chuckle.

...

The Auburn waterfront had been an eyesore long before now, but the city had only abandoned it recently. The rate of decay astonished Alice. Once great industrial complexes were now reduced to towers of rust. Most of Fairport's business had moved away from the waterfront anyway, preferring instead the superhighway and airport for transit. Still, the occasional cargo ship made its entry into the northernmost part of the harbor, but no one ever stayed for long.

At the heart of the rotting industrial zone was one of the former marvels of Fairport. The enormous desalination and water treatment facility slumbered behind rusted barbed wire. It was one of the last things on the waterfront to close its shutters, but by the look of it, it had been limping along for some time. Alice had been given the key to the padlock securing the front gate, but the damn thing was so rusted that she ended up having to smash it off.

"This place looks like it's been abandoned for at least fifty years, not two." Alice remarked as they drove up to the main treatment facility. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

"Must be something in the rain?" Bill suggested. "That's why we're here isn't it? Testing the waters."

"If it's in the rain, that's an entirely new magnitude of problem."

They parked the car outside the main entrance and Alice brought a crowbar to pry the doors open. Bill had learned a while ago to let her take the lead on things. She would hand off the manual labor once her arms got tired enough. Then he could feel like a chivalrous assistant.

 _Crack._

The door frame snapped beneath the pressure of the pry bar.

"Okay then..." Alice muttered. "Bill, give it a shove."

He did so, and the door gave way without much effort, making him stumble forward into the lobby.

"God, the air." Bill gasped, holding his shirt over his nose. "Are you sure it's safe to be in here?"

"The city wouldn't let us in here if it wasn't."

Just then, the hairs on Alice's neck stood on end. It wasn't so much the sound that startled her, but the sudden break in silence. The darkened facility was like a void within a void, swallowing all light and noise. So when she heard the sound of a whisper, echoing down the halls, it was enough to make her drop everything and run.

"Alice, what is it?" Bill asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, she jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. He held his hands out calmly and looked at her with concern.

"You didn't hear that?" She whispered.

"I-no, I don't know what you're talking about. You look like you're about ready to faint! What did you hear?"

"I-It…" She trailed off, straining to listen for any other trace of the voice, but it was gone. "Nothing, probably just something falling apart. C'mon, we need to get to the mains."

From her pocket, she pulled a headlamp and fastened it over her head. The inside of the water treatment facility wasn't as decayed as the exterior, which lent some disturbing credence to Bill's comment about the rain. Then again, they weren't here to speculate, but to gather evidence. As executive officer of Armacham's public relations department, she was responsible for community outreach. It was no secret that Armacham used to run shipments through the harbor and into a private warehouse. Rumors had since circulated about their involvement with the environmental deterioration of the Auburn waterfront. So, it was her job to prove their innocence, or at least find out how to fix someone else's bungle.

The main floor of the treatment facility opened up wide, with enough space inside to fit three natatoriums. Except the pools in here were hardly for swimming, and Alice shuddered to think what might happen if she went for a dip. Inside each of the pools, the water had settled, with a dense layer of red-orange silt resting on the bottom half.

"Do you smell that?" Alice asked.

"Yeah, it smells like rust." Bill answered.

 _More like old blood._ She thought to herself.

"What are we looking for again?" He asked.

"The main pumps. They should be somewhere near the chlorine systems. These are just the settling tanks, I think."

"You know your sewage."

"I do my homework." She corrected.

As they passed the first phase of the settling tanks, Alice noted that the silt became darker with each pool. Some of it looked to have crawled up onto the edges, spreading out over the concrete like a rash. She wondered quietly if it was some sort of algae, free to grow as it pleased in the abandoned pools. Whatever it was, instinct told her to avoid stepping in it.

The pump room took a few minutes to reach, navigating in the dark. Alice did well to memorize the three turns it took to get there, and the length of each hallway. This place was simple, utilitarian, but also enormous. Anyone could get lost.

"This door leads to the sampling station. They give the recycled water one last looksie before it goes out to the city. Or, at least, they used to."

"What the hell do people in Auburn do for water?" Bill asked.

"You must not watch the news. About half the country's been on the city's ass, asking that same question."

"So… what do they do?"

"They move."

Indeed, there weren't many people who still lived in Auburn, and it had mostly been an industrial district to begin with. Those unlucky few who straggled on the edges were forced to rely on rooftop water towers. Armacham had donated about two hundred of the things, hoping it would be enough to clear up the rumors regarding its involvement with the crisis. However, Alice was not satisfied with a simple bandaid. If there was serious contamination, eventually it would rear its ugly head again.

"Help me push, Bill." She told him, leaning hard against the door. He nodded, joining her, and the door screeched as it tore across the concrete. One of the hinges must have slipped lower and rested the bottom right on the floor. It was unnerving to hear such a loud, violent sound in such an empty place.

Almost immediately, Alice backed away and gasped. The dark red algae from the settling tanks was in here as well, but everywhere. Where it was thicker, the substance was so dark it became black. It clung to the walls, the ceiling, and completely covered the floor. The smell of rust and decay was thicker in here than it had been anywhere else.

"That doesn't look right." Bill said. "It's like… mold or... I dunno. I don't like it."

"Well then I guess you don't have to eat it." Alice quipped, but in truth she was just as uncomfortable.

"Is it safe to go in there?"

"We've come this far. Just don't touch any of it."

Bill took a deep breath and sighed. She knew he would have probably been better off at the office, but the truth was she didn't want to come here alone. It might have been simpler to request an ATC security escort, but they wouldn't have let her set foot in this room.

"There should be a sampling hatch somewhere." She said. "Help me find it."

They pored over the rusted machines and piping, but it all blended together beneath the layer of crimson, so it was slow going. She tried scooping up some of the stuff into a sample bag, but she might as well have been chipping at steel. That confused her, since the texture of the substance looked wet and loose. Eventually, she gave up and they followed one of the monitoring stations over to an access valve. Alice made sure her gloves were tucked over her sleeves before attempting to twist it. She gave it all her strength, but there was no budge.

"Do you have gloves?" Alice asked.

"Er, shit… I left them in the car." Bill said sheepishly.

"Well they're really useful out there, aren't they?"

"I can go get them-"

"No, I want to get out of here. Just wear mine."

She slipped them off one by one, careful not to touch the outsides, before holding them open for Bill. After a brief struggle, he managed to squeeze both of them in, flexing his fingers for good measure. Grunting, he set about twisting the valve as hard as he could. She heard the metal snap and grind as he managed to get it past the first hump, but it sounded like the rest wouldn't come easy.

With a sigh, she looked around the rest of the pump room, searching for the source of the red contaminant. As far as she could tell, there was no way it could have gotten in from the settling tanks. She observed the few pockets of concrete and metal it hadn't smothered yet, noting that the surfaces seemed to crack or rust respectively, just at the edge of the crimson substance. Then, when she turned her headlamp over to the opposite wall, she screamed in horror.

Bill yelped in shock and confusion, until he saw what she was looking at.

"Holy shit!" Alice swore. "Bill!"

"Yeah, I see it, Alice!"

A man sat slumped up against the wall, but he was barely more than a shape. His body was cocooned in the red substance, which looked to have glued him to the floor. Above him, there were markings carved into the crimson. Words and shapes spiraled out from behind his head, but Alice didn't dare get closer to read them.

"Oh my God. How long has he been here?" She covered her mouth and groaned.

"We need to call the police." He told her. "Fuck!"

"Do it, do it, I'll get the sample! Just give me a glove. I only need one."

He peeled one off shakily and passed it to her. She slipped it on carefully as he fumbled around with his phone. Alice dipped a capsule into the sampling port, letting it fill completely before bringing it up to examine it. The water was clear, to her surprise. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, perhaps something closer to the red and black of the rest of the room. Of course, there were probably things in the water she couldn't see, but still, she needed a wider sample variation.

"Goddamnit." He muttered.

"What?"

"No signal. Fucking place. I'm gonna go find a window."

"Okay, go. I'll catch up."

"Huh? No, I'll wait. I'm not leaving you alone in here-"

"Jesus, Bill. I don't think he's going anywhere."

Bill glanced nervously at the body and then to her, sighing in frustration before hurrying out of the room. She listened for his footsteps as he walked further away, until the silence returned. Chewing her lip she looked over at the body and took a deep breath. Bill certainly wouldn't have approved of what she was going to do next, but what he didn't know wouldn't nag her. Cautiously, she stepped over to the body and crouched down beside it. This close, she got a better look at what was written above his head. Most of it was garbled nonsense, but there was one phrase that stuck out.

 _Can he see?_

God, she hoped not. She produced a multi-tool from her pocket and tried using the knife to cut away a bit of his clothes. No matter how hard she pressed, or from what angle, the blade simply slid over the surface.

"What the fuck?" Alice hissed, but then she got a morbid idea. "Oh God, forgive me."

Using the bladed pliers, she pinched hold of the man's earlobe and squeezed as hard as she could. It surprised her when the chunk of ear actually came off, falling onto the floor. Dead flesh, the color of dirty motor oil, oozed where she had cut him, and she had to cover her nose from the stench. With the pliers, she picked up the severed lobe and placed it delicately into another sample bag. She made sure to tuck it at the bottom of her deepest pocket so Bill wouldn't see.

With that out of the way, it was long past time to go find him and get the hell out of this place. As curious as she was about the substance they'd found, she'd rather think about it once they were back at the lab. Still, this little experience reminded her why she needed to do these sorts of things herself. No low level associate would have come this far, or even thought about doing what she did.

"Bill!" Alice called, stepping back out into the hallway. She waited for an answer, but didn't hear anything. After a few more tries, she began to hate the way her voice echoed back at her. It felt like she was being too loud, like she was disturbing something.

She decided he must have gone further back than she thought and began retracing their steps back to the entrance. It was a much quieter, colder walk back without Bill beside her. Her chest began to tighten as she hurried down each hall, quickening her pace a little as she approached the turns. By the time she approached the last bend before the main treatment room, she was running. In those last few meters before the turn, she held her breath, waiting to release it once she was back in an open space.

But the sigh of relief never came.

When she rounded the corner, all she saw was another hallway. Immediately, her heart tugged and her stomach lurched. There was no way she had made a wrong turn. Her memory was as sharp as her vision, and she had made it a point to memorize each turn. Besides that, she had studied the layout before they arrived. Nonetheless, there was no treatment room, just another long, windowless hallway.

She looked back over her shoulder to see if there might have been something she missed—some difference in perspective. But when her eyes adjusted, she nearly fell to the floor in shock. Behind her was the threshold to the main treatment area, opening up into the wide space she had been looking for. Alice shook her head and tried to make sense of it, but there was no denying what she saw.

How the hell had she gotten turned around like that? When she tried to think of how she might have gotten disoriented, it only made her dizzier.

"Bill!" She shouted. "Bill Moody! Where the hell are you?!"

There was no answer, but just then her body was beginning to tremble. A sharp ringing filled her ears, and beneath it she could hear a voice whispering.

" _...you never saw…"_

She whipped her headlamp to every corner of the room, but the bulb was beginning to flicker, and the ringing in her ears was becoming louder. The voice beneath it became clearer as well. It sounded like a child.

" _...but I see you…"_

Fuck this.

She broke into a sprint, dashing towards the lobby doors. Just before she could reach the last row of tanks, she felt the floor slip out from under her. In her panic, she hadn't noticed the red splotch that had crawled out from one of the pools. Her head cracked hard on the concrete, making her see colors in the darkness. The air was knocked out of her lungs, and her back arched in pain as she tried to inhale. Before she could recover, she felt a pair of hands beneath her shoulders, helping her up.

"Oh God, Bill." She gasped, catching her breath. "Thank you, I thought-"

But when she turned around to face him, and her vision recovered, it wasn't Bill.

" _Drink._ " The red corpse hissed.

Before she could even scream, the dead man shoved her backwards. All she could do was flail her arms before feeling the cold slap of water hit her back. The pool swallowed her as she tried to suck in air, and her mouth filled with the taste of blood and bile. Her eyes burned as she sank deeper, and she shut them as tight as she could. But the tighter she forced them, the more she began to see—the more she began to hear.

" _...now you see…"_

Rubber tubes and metal walls surrounded her. It didn't look like the pool she had fallen into. This place was darker, claustrophobic, and meant to contain something. Was it her? Was she trapped in here now? No, she knew she didn't belong here, but something else did.

" _...what they did…"_

With horror, she realized something was rising from the bottom of the tank. It was the shape of a person, but they were too thin. As it drew closer, Alice saw it more clearly, and her body began to beg for air, for escape. It was at her feet now, climbing its way up her body. A long, black mass of hair draped over its sickly, naked form. Translucent skin revealed spiderwebs of thin, purple veins, wrapping tight around every bone. When the face finally rose to meet her, she looked into its sunken eyes and saw nothing but hollow sockets.

Alice barely realized that the thing staring at her was a young woman, but there was nothing youthful or even human about her. It couldn't have been alive, not with those rotting lips and sunken cheeks.

Then, it opened its mouth.

" _...why aren't you here…?"_

Screaming, Alice thrashed and twisted her body away, but she could feel the boney fingers clamp around her shoulders. They pinned her in place, and she could hear the thing begin to scream at her, filling her ears with noise.

"ALICE!"

Then, the noise was gone.

She felt the air enter her lungs, but kept screaming anyway. It wasn't until she felt someone shaking her that she finally remembered to open her eyes. Standing in front of her, Bill Moody looked horrified. Sweat beaded his face and his eyes bulged in the dark.

"B-Bill?!" Alice cried, and then he released her. She backed away shaking her head, trying to understand where she was now. They were back in the pump room, next to the body that had shoved her into the settling pool. Only, it was still exactly where it had been, nothing different except for a bit of missing ear. Once her breathing finally came easier, the rational side of her brain began working again.

"What the hell happened?" Bill worried. "I stepped out for a minute and then I heard you screaming bloody murder!"

"I-I it was…" She struggled to articulate. "Um, I-I think the… the air isn't safe. There's a… uh, a uh… hallucinogenic property to the contaminant."

"Uh, I feel fine." He said, checking himself over.

"Then-then it must be the water."

"Wh-Alice, you didn't DRINK it, did you?"

She looked at him with a bewildered expression, about ready to slap him, but then she felt something stiff on her fingers. When she brought her hand up to look, she saw that a bit of the red and black substance was caked over her middle and index finger.

"Oh shit, hold on." Bill said, fishing for an alcohol swab from his pack. "Here, this should do it."

He rubbed gently, to no effect, but then Alice yanked the swab away and began scrubbing hard. It took some doing, and another two wipes, but she finally cleared away the substance. Almost immediately, her head began to clear, but that only sharpened her senses. They were all telling her the same thing.

"Let's get out of here." She told him. "Did you call the police?"

"No, I heard you scream before I found a signal."

"Okay… let's wait til we know more about what's in there. That body's not going anywhere. No need to put more people at risk."

"Sure," He nodded, and she could tell he knew how shaken she was.

...

They practically ran back to the car, and Alice didn't chance a look back until she was safely in the passenger seat. She scanned over the exterior of the abandoned complex and felt relieved to be leaving it behind. Then, in one of the office annexes, she saw a flash of scarlet in one of the windows. The glass was filthy, and the blurry shape behind it was absolutely still. Alice leaned closer until her nose was nearly pressed against the car window. Then, she realized that whatever she was looking at was also looking at her.

A familiar ringing filled her ears.

" _...you don't know..."_

Alice's breathing quickened and the blood in her face turned cold.

" _...I can show you…"_

The car started and snapped her out of her trance. Bill looked at her with a concerned frown, but she shook her head and reassured him. Looking back at the window, she saw nothing but dirt and grime. Still, her mind kept telling her something was still there, watching.

* * *

"What the hell was she doing there?" Harlan demanded.

"Water survey." Aldus Bishop told him. "She's concerned about the pipes in Auburn. Thinks they might rupture and contaminate the soil."

"And when did she become a goddamn plumber? Why does she care?"

"The media's been running a few articles. Talking about the abandoned waterfront. The company name has popped up in most of them. She is head of public relations."

"A fucking interview wouldn't suffice?"

"She's your daughter, sir." Bishop pointed out.

Harlan Wade growled and rubbed his temples. If Genevieve Aristide wasn't going to put him into an early grave, then his daughter just might. Of all the days and places for Alice to go out and play scientist, she picked the worst.

"I respect her tenacity." Genevieve remarked, approaching them with two cups of coffee. "Sorry Aldus, I didn't know you'd be here, I would have brought you one."

"That's alright, ma'am, thank you." Bishop said. "I need to go back down and meet Alice anyway. She brought samples, apparently."

With that, he gave them both a nod and headed towards the elevators. He was a young but serious man, looking better fit for an army uniform than a corporate suit and tie. Harlan watched him go as the elevator closed and then turned his scowl to Genevieve.

"Well, at least she was productive." She smiled.

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Genevieve." Harlan growled, taking the coffee.

"I'll remind you who you're talking to."

" _Remind me._ "

She clicked her tongue and sighed, looking disappointed with him. Most women would just roll their eyes, or maybe get offended, but not her. No, Genevieve always found a way to look down her nose, no matter how far in the wrong she was.

"You let her go out there? Today?" Harlan glowered. "With no one else but Bill fucking Moody?"

"She's not _my_ daughter, Harlan." Genevieve reminded him. "I trust her to handle her business. But, yes, I understand your concern. I'll put out a memo advising employees to keep away from Auburn, for the time being."

"You really are delusional. Still think this is some run of the mill screw up? Think a few memos and seminars are gonna fix what you did? It's over, Genevieve. You opened Pandora's box, and you can't undo that!"

"We haven't even begun to assess our options." She argued. "There were some initial mistakes, I agree. And I feel terribly for the losses we've sustained-"

"People _died_ , Genevieve."

"And I understand that. We underestimated what we were getting into-"

" _We_? There is no _we_. I warned you when you came to me with this. You don't get to stand there and pretend you didn't know the risks."

Harlan felt his fingers trembling with anger. He balled them into a fist to keep them steady. Genevieve looked at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, and she was his exhausted mother. That was the way she had always been, for as long as he knew her. Everyone else was the fool for not sharing in her singular vision. She pushed boundaries, ignored advice, and assumed it always worked. Just because the shit never stuck to her once it hit the fan. However, this time, no amount of politics would save her.

"Look, Harlan." She said, softening her tone. "I understand how sensitive you are about Origin. I should have been more prepared for what was down there."

"Listen to me." He said, getting closer. "Nothing will prepare you. You should not have gone there. End of story. It was buried for a reason."

She looked at him patiently, the way she always did when she was about to say something that would piss him off.

"You told me there was nothing alive down there." She reminded. "How was I to expect what happened? You confirmed in your report-"

"She is dead." Harlan pointed a finger at her. "Her heart _stopped_. Twenty-five years ago."

"Well, clearly-"

" _Dead_ , Genevieve. Are you starting to understand?"

"I'm not sure I do, to be honest. If she is dead, then why is this happening?"

Sometimes he could not fathom how this woman had gotten to be president of the company he had dedicated his life to. Then, he reminded himself that people like Aristide were good at maintaining an image—that was their skill. It wasn't about the vision or the competence, but the résumé. Of course she couldn't comprehend the idiocy of what she was saying. She let people talk and stood there patiently, but she never listened. Clearly, she didn't understand the implications of what he had been trying to tell her.

You can't kill something that's already dead.

"Harlan?" Genevieve said. "We can fix this. All we need to do is… seal it back up. Like you did before."

Arrogance would always be her downfall, but this time she was taking everyone else with her. He turned to her, tempted to slap that concerned look right off her face. Instead, he chuckled darkly and shook his head.

"It's too late." He said, flashing a bitter smile.

Just then, the phone rang. Genevieve gestured to it and smiled patiently.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Daddy, it's me."

For a second, he froze, but then felt relief at the sound of his daughter's voice.

"Alice, you nearly gave me a heart attack today."

"I, uh, yeah… I'm not too sure it was a good idea, either." She said. "But listen, we did get some samples, and uh… I think there's definitely cause for concern."

"You sound scared." Harlan said, switching the phone to his better ear. "You never sound scared, what happened?"

"Oh God, promise you won't make me take time off?"

"What happened, Alice?"

"I just… there must be something in that water, or in the air, or… I don't know. I had a panic attack. My mind played some tricks on me. But, I did learn just now that hallucinations are fairly common in waterborne contaminants-

"Hallucinations?" He repeated sharply, staring daggers into Genevieve. "What kind? What did you see?"

"Oh, Dad… I don't remember. It was just… a bad place—it was dark, and-"

"Are you sure you don't remember?"

"Yeah… I'm sure. Are you alright? You sound more tense than usual."

Harlan sighed and shook his head, wishing he had more time to deal with Genevieve's disaster. But if he were being honest with himself, his outrage towards her was just guilt. This was as much his mess as it was hers, probably more. He needed to keep it from touching Alice, even if that meant scaring her.

"Honey, let's go to dinner tonight." He said. "We haven't had much time together lately."

"Dad, we saw a movie last weekend. Remember?"

"Well, I'm getting old then, so just do me the favor, alright?"

"Oh please, you've still got another forty years before you can start using that excuse."

With a sad smile he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'll pick you up at seven." He told her. "I love you."

"Ugh, alright. I'll clear my schedule. Love you too, Daddy."

He waited until the dial tone before hanging up. When he turned back to Genevieve, she had one of her insufferable smiles spread across her face.

"After your date, I'll need you back at the office." She said. "We're going to work around the clock to ensure this gets fixed."

Harlan scoffed and dumped his coffee in the trash. He walked over to his desk, picking up the framed photo of him and Alice. There was so much he had hoped to never have to tell her, but he needed her to leave the city. She wouldn't go easily, he knew, not without explaining to her what was happening first. Maybe that was just the way it was going to be. She would hate him, he knew that, but at least she would be safe. It wasn't a father's duty to be loved, but to protect his children, no matter the cost.

He had already failed once. It wasn't going to happen again.

"I'm leaving Fairport with my daughter, tonight." Harlan said.

"Harlan, need I remind you-"

The phone rang again. Harlan answered it quickly.

"Yes?"

He frowned as the person on the other end spoke, then turned to Genevieve.

"It's for you." He said, handing her the phone. "Don't you have your own office?"

"I do. You refused to meet me there." She took the phone. "This is Aristide."

There was a long pause as Genevieve stood listening, but Harlan didn't bother standing around for her. He began going through his desk drawers and combing over his shelves, looking for anything he might not want to leave behind. There was an old baseball Alice had gotten signed for his birthday. He never liked sports, but his daughter always assumed since he went to all of her little league games. When she had asked him, a week before his birthday, who his favorite baseball player was, he was honest with her. So, she signed the ball herself and gave it to him.

That was the only thing besides the picture he bothered taking. The rest could go to storage, or better yet, a furnace. It was long past time for him to leave Armacham behind. For the past decade, he had been slugging along with dead end projects like Perseus. Like everything in recent years, it had potential, at first. But then they hit one snag after another, and soon they were stuck. Now, they had over a thousand clones rotting in a facility only a few years away from being shut down. They were mostly useless without a linked commander, only able to respond to enough commands to keep themselves alive, maybe go on a parade.

Not to mention, their very existence was illegal.

Yes, his work here was finished. Besides, there was no joy in it anymore, no more of that devilish thrill that had always driven him. He was going to settle down somewhere quiet, for as long as he could. If he was lucky, Fairport would simply be abandoned—deemed an environmental disaster. If not… well, he would make sure that Alice didn't pay for his mistakes.

"How long ago?" Genevieve demanded, and Harlan noticed the sudden shift in her voice. "Where is he now?"

He looked up at her, but she was absorbed in the phone call. All pretense was dropped from her expression, and she finally looked as worried as she ought to be.

"I understand." She said sternly. "Get a response team together. I'll notify the board. We're going on lockdown."

Harlan shot up and gave her a sharp look, but she simply set the phone back onto the receiver. He knew what lockdown meant for everyone still inside the building. That wasn't a term she would have used lightly.

"I'm not staying here." He told her. "You can't lock me in like some-"

"Perseus has been compromised." She cut him off, looking serious. "The second prototype has escaped. People are dead."

He froze, staring at her as if she had just slapped him.

"Fettel?" He whispered. "What about the Replicas?"

She took a deep breath and sighed.

"There's been an uprising."


End file.
